Life After Wonderland
by xRainbows.and.Unicornsx
Summary: But I don't want to meet the crazy new neighbors," Alice remarked. AU
1. Prologue: Enter the Narrator

**A/N: **'Kay, so I'm totally new to actually posting stories onto FFNET. Yeah... The end.

**Disclaimer:** I, in fact, _do_ own KH and all Disney items. However, due to some major secret meeting we had like 3 years ago, they said that it would make people jealous if I went around bragging. In conclusion, "I do not actually own Kingdom Hearts. Oh darn." (Read: monotone)

**Summary: **Due to the shenanigans of a little white rabbit, Alice Pleasance Liddell has forgotten happiness. But that's the least of her worries. With the arrival of strange, new neighbors, bizarre things have been stirring. Worst of all, somebody's been painting the roses.

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**Life After Wonderland**

**Prologue: Enter the Narrator**

You ever have those days where you wake up and for some reason unbeknownst to you, every action that you do, every person that you meet, and every object of which you use must go under an intense scrutiny? Where under normal circumstances, you would've sat down at the table, grabbed your plate, and with little intervention of the utensils provided, shoveled the food into your mouth and sent it ultimately to the acidic depths of your stomach without so much as a passing thought. But then there are those days, which in case of the same scenario mentioned above, you casually sit at your table, look at the other occupants and note what they're doing (and noticing therefore the horrendous manner of which your brothers eat and then ponder if that is the way that you, too, eat your breakfast in the average situation, all the while moving your seat a fraction of an inch to the right as if devouring your food like an animal is as contagious as the black plague), before looking down and noting your own breakfast and how if you tilt your head to the right just ever so slightly and close your left eye while squinting the right one, your breakfast almost looks like the face of Jesus. Now, were you a religious person, perhaps you'd push your plate forward and decide that you are not about to eat Jesus' face as that would definitely call for some damnation of the soul. However, if you so happen to not be religious or of a conflicting religion to Christianity, perhaps at that precise moment you'd pick up your fork and dig in, while idly wondering why the face of Jesus tastes like sausage and eggs. (At this point, I suppose I should go ahead and place a disclaimer, for I'm most certain that the face of Jesus, or any ligament of him for that matter, does not taste anything remotely similar to sausage and eggs. That would be rather bizarre.)

But I digress.

These pensive moods as all are susceptible to tend to pose as quite the thorn in one's side for many simply in regards to the inhibitor they can be. Quite the anticatalyst, if we were speaking in scientific terms. For you see, when one sees everything that which surrounds it in an entirely new way, a way that sends the viewer into a lapse of awareness of their environment, leaving merely them and the item of which their thoughts linger, all one wishes to do is sit and dwell and ponder the whole day through, a desire that is truly out of the question for there are jobs to be done, bills to be paid, and people to be met. (Another disclaimer is due here simply for the matter that not all people have jobs to do, bills to pay, or people to meet, and for those few, I state not only this disclaimer but my sympathies as well.)

However, there are those, of which I myself am included, who find great amusement out of these most extraordinary days. It is upon these days that the true scholar that which we harbor within ourselves bursts forth and covers the world in a glow of importance and meaning and value. We dwell, yes; we ponder, yes. But we live and see and grow more in one day than is possible in a thousands years (figuratively speaking, of course.)

Many of my best days were spent just on the outskirts of my birthplace. There was the most beautiful hill covered in the loveliest spring flowers that I've seen to date. I'd spend warm spring afternoons idling on the side of the great hill, which had been named Clover Hill some decades before. Hours I'd lay motionless simply contemplating and reflecting until the sky grew dark and the clouds parted to show the biggest moon you've ever seen accompanied with the brightest of blinking stars. Both of which would draw me from my reverie only to send me back again onto another path entirely. Such fond memories I possess from the days of my youth. Why, I remember this one time...

(Several hours later, as noted by the purely sympathetic author who had NOT foreseen this coming at all. Well, okay. Maybe a little.)

...and they said that _I_ didn't know how to have fun. Well, ha! I say. I bet that goat is _still_ trying to grow its hair back. Rather tragic about the hen, however. Simply a victim of my miscalculations.

Ah, me and my memory, I feel as if I'm forgetting something, some trivial matter that which perhaps may not be so trivial for it could affect the entire known universe as we speak. The matter of which I speak was divulged unto me so that I may pass it on to you. A rather important trivial matter it was. (And yes, I am well aware that by labeling a matter as both 'trivial' and 'important' is an oxymoron. I merely state it this way as this is the way that it was told to me. An important trivial matter, it had been called when told to me. Therefore, an important trivial matter it shall be called when told to you.) Ah, let's see, let's see. What ever could it have possibly been that I had been told to tell you? It was something important, I warrant. Something so very important, indeed.

Hmm.

You know, bad memories run in the family. Yes, terrible memories we have in my family. I recollect this one instance with my Uncle Joseph. Poor gent. He had the worst memory out of all of us. There was this one time, well day rather, and a terribly eventful day it was for my poor uncle. You see, one day my Uncle Joseph, who lived only a moment's walk down the lane, well he, ah. Ah, he... I can't seem to remember what it is that he did. Nor can I remember what it is that happened as a result.

Oh it was such a good story, too. I remember telling it at the conference. Everybody simply loved it.

Ah well, I can't seem to remember it for the life of me. Perhaps if I tell a story, it'll come back.

Now, this story that which I shall tell to you is not one that I know personally, merely for I held no role within the sequence of events. It involves people that you certainly may know and several that you do not, simply because they have yet to be introduced in a public setting. However, if any persons so claim the right of being acquainted with those particular characters, if you will, let it be known that they are, and I quote, "dirty, stinking liars." (Naturally, a disclaimer is needed simply for though they shall be lying by claiming acquaintance with the characters and therefore that qualifies them as 'liars', they may not however be either 'dirty' or 'stinking' as they perhaps may very well be clean, minty-fresh liars that which do indeed shower regularly.)

Now then, this particular story was scribed some time ago by an individual that which took part in the events. However, as reading from a paper is unappealing to me, I shall take the account and form it into my own telling. And for the last and final disclaimer, for the chronicle that which follows, let it be duly noted that I am merely the narrator and therefore hold no power of the events that follow. Any complaints and/or inquisitions shall be directed to the participants of the account of which I shall divulge unto you.

Do enjoy the narrative, as it is one of my very favorites.

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**A/N: **Personally, I love the narrator. Whenever I read this, I always hear the typical fairytale reader guy. You know, like the ones that have the deep voice that has a slightly British undertone and tells the simplest of fairytales way too flowery. Yeah, that's what I hear. And if THAT's not a good enough description, Gandalf's (LOTR) voice would work as well.


	2. Chapter 1: The Problem with Alice

**A/N:** Alrighty, so now we actually get to see Alice. :D

**Disclaimer:** I do believe we discussed this in detail on the previous page. However, for those of you who need constant reminding, "Kingdom Hearts is indeed _not_ mine."

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**Life After Wonderland**

**Chapter 1: The Problem with Alice**

This story begins in a silent household in the middle of the night. All the occupants therein silently slumbering; their dreams unperturbed; their bodies still. Their troubles seem now a yesterday ago, and no reminders exist in their subconscious to tell them otherwise. All is well. All is right. And none save the steady, rhythmic tic-tocking of the clock could give way to disturb them.

Ah, sweet, sweet silence.

_'Do, do-di-do, do-di-do-di-do-di-do'_

_Ay, iyaiyai, ay, iyaiyai, ay, iyaiyai,_

_Where's my samurai?' _**(1)**

"Yuffie, I'll kill you," a sinister voice grunted into the darkness. Okay, to be perfectly honest, she's not all that sinister. Merely tired, and exhaustion has a way of distorting things into horrible, phantasmal figurations. In summation, the creature under the covers is most definitely, absolutely, in no way at all sinister. Just really, really sleepy. But I digress. "Wha' time izzit?" the disgruntled voice mumbled, this time into the mouth piece of the blasted contraption that which had disturbed the glorious silence mere moments before.

"What time is it, you ask?" Oh, what time indeed. For if it were scientifically possible for one to reach through the phone and do bodily harm to the speaker on the opposite end, bodily harm as in shoving hand down throat and pulling out organs only to have them shoved into the nasal cavity and other like scenarios of equal or greater than gore and morbidity, then one person in particular would be writhing in severe agony as we speak. In conclusion, this equates to the time being approximately, '11: time-to-kill-a-ninja-30.' (Disclaimer: Perhaps in a galaxy far, far away, 11:30 may actually be the time to kill ninjas. However, as we are currently in a galaxy so very near and it is not 11:30, this would prove to be false on both accounts.) Ah, yes, let it be known that Alice Liddell is in no way sinister at all.

"Well, I do believe that it is 12:01." Yuffie replied just as loudly as before. She obviously had no idea of the devastation that Alice was currently wishing upon her. No idea, indeed.

"Yuffie, _darling_," The emphasis on 'darling' clearly illustrated Alice's opinion that Yuffie was anything but, "may I inquire as to why you are calling me at 12 oh one in the MORNING?!" And she so did not just shriek out 'morning' as if she were keening the death of a member of her household.

"Whoa, keep it down there, yo. People are tryin' to sleep. Besides, now it is officially 12:02. You're a minute behind." Alice couldn't form a witty response to that, so she simply flopped her head down onto her pillow and willed it to absorb her, and perhaps enact her vengeance for her. "And to answer your question, I'm calling because it's yoooouuur special day!"

Alice found herself confused. Not the typical form of confused. Not the kind that comes when you flip on the TV at 4:59 knowing full well that your most favorite show of all time comes on in precisely one minute only to find that for some god forsaken reason the world decided to work against you and instead some news special about perverts and how to catch them is on instead. No. This kind of confused was far, far worse. This kind of confused is the kind that stems from having a mere 2 and a half hours of sleep only to be woken up at 12 oh one by some kid who honestly thinks she's a ninja and who's telling you that it's YOUR special day.

"And what special day would that be in reference to?" Alice drawled, forcing as much contempt that she could manage in to that one sentence.

"Silly, little girl. What is today?"

...

"Judgment Day?"

"WRONG. It's May 4th. It's your BIRTHDAY. Happy birthday, Alice!

" Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday to you... "

"My birth...day?" Alice began. '_It's May 4th?_', she thought in that clever little mind of hers. Suddenly, Alice remembered that the day previous had been May 3rd and with that sudden knowledge, her eyes grew wide and the ever-present rosy tinge to her cheeks vanished into thin air. It was indeed May 4th. Therefore, it was indeed her birthday, and there's only one thing that she can do when it's her birthday. _I've gotta get out of here._

Run far, far away and wait for the day to end.

"Uh, bye, Yuffie." But before she could press the little, red button.

" Happy birthday to Alic—Wait, what? You say something, squirt?"

"I, uh, just remembered, Yuffie. I have things that I, uh, have to do. I'll talk to you later... Bye." And just like that the line was broken.

With a speed greater than haste, Alice removed herself from the grasp of her blankets and headed towards her closest. With a little digging, she managed to find the bag that she had packed on her last birthday. Inside the bag, Alice knew to be contained some pajama pants, one of dad's old shirts, numerous bottles of water, a jar of preservatives, a flashlight, and a can of mace. _Ah, what about school?, _she inwardly gasped of recollection. _School can wait. I have to get out of here, _she answered after a moment's hesitation. After the last three birthdays, she just couldn't be careful any more. Not to speak ill of her friends, but Yuffie should never consider the party planning field as a possible career choice. After the Petting Zoo Fiasco of '04 and the Ex-Fugitive Clown on Parole Ordeal of '05, there's just no telling what could be in store for Alice on her birthday. And can we forget last year's balloon incident? Alice shivered involuntarily. _Never again_.

But poor, poor little Alice. Did she honestly think for a moment that Yuffie would let her just slip through her fingers like that? And as Alice opened the back door thinking that she had a clear escape, she found the answer to her question. It was staring her in the face.

"Good morning, Alice!"

And for the first time in her life, Alice fell to her knees and prayed.

And her prayers unquestionably went unanswered.

Point in case, Alice along with, oh, ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY of her closest friends had been gathered at Dippy's Pizza Hut. Problem A, Alice does not have 130 friends, so quite a few mere acquaintances and 'who-the-hell-are-you?'s were thrown in the mix, just for good measure. Problem B, Dippy's Pizza Hut is an absolutely fantastic dining experience, especially so if you just happen to be eight years old, as demonstrated by the pedophiles currently garbed in giant Peter the Panda, Larry the Lion, and Susan the Squid costumes. Problem C, Fridays seem to be quite popular at Dippy's, or perhaps just that particular Friday, as per that no less than five birthday parties had been scheduled for that day. Taking in to consideration that Yuffie does not have the foresight to schedule a party room at Dippy's, Alice and her 130 close friends were forced to congregate in the main dining area that which has a maximum seating capacity of only 85 people. But wait, there's more. For the fact that there were 5 other birthday parties, all of which having been scheduled months ahead, the service was particularly slow in the main dining area. In other words, they'd been there for nearly 3 and half hours, and they have yet to be fed. All this translates to Alice having a downright terrible birthday.

Thus, Alice had made no less than seven attempts at escape, one of which including scaling the banister and while teetering thirty feet off the ground on the beam, throwing herself at the window that's just out of her fingertips' reach, and THEN, pull some mad ninja moves and escape via the window, after which she would promptly bury herself in the bottom of her closet. (Of course, this attempt failed miserably as Alice discovered while teetering on the beam that 1) she's terrified of heights and 2) the window was purely for show and did not open. Though, in all her contemplations, she did not discuss the improbability of her 'mad ninja moves' or the lack there of. In conclusion, Yuffie's not the only ninja in town.) But would Yuffie let dear Alice just leave her very special birthday party on her very special day? That would be NONSENSE, and though Alice may have expertise in all things nonsensical (especially after the Wonderland Incident of '97), Yuffie, however, followed the guidelines of things that made sense. And such, what made sense to Yuffie was: 'Birthday girl should not leave birthday party until birthday party is complete.' And thus, Alice was trapped.

Trapped like a rat in a cage.

_But at least_, Alice thought, _I have my friends here_. And indeed she did have her friends. She along with several of her friends were sitting at a booth on the back wall of the main dining area. It was difficult to see one another as the table was crowded with numerous brightly-colored boxes, but Alice made the attempt none-the-less. She could plainly see Tifa, Leon, Kuja, and Rikku, and if she wiggled in her seat, she could just see the tip of one of Cloud's spikes and a smidge of pink that would be Aerith's bow. Kadaj and Vincent were both hidden completely behind the gifts. Yuffie, however, was far across the room. Alice knew this automatically for she had just given up glaring at her a moment ago, deciding that wanting Yuffie to spontaneously combust doesn't mean that she's going to. Alice would simply need to find matches.

Rather than return her thoughts to bitter contemplations regarding one particular ninja, Alice betook herself into glaring at anything and everything that so much as came into her line of sight. Which worked as a proper distraction. For all of 5 minutes.

"When can I go home?" Alice huffed to no one in particular, merely hoping for the answer that she wanted. No other answer would simply do. When silence is all that met her, she slumped farther into the bench. Alice knew the answer to her question even before she asked it, and her friends knew the answer as well and knew that she knew it. She had asked Yuffie the same question three hours and fifteen minutes ago. Yuffie had smiled, cocked her head to the side, and replied, "Well, first you have to eat your pizza. Theeenn, the birthday cake. And finally, presents!" At the time, Alice had optimistically figured that eating pizza, divvying the cake, and opening presents shouldn't take long at all and so she shouldn't be there more than a couple of hours. Unfortunately, a mere hour and half later Alice made a crucial realization. She remembered that she, Alice Pleasance Liddell, was in fact _not_ an optimist and therefore should not be forming conclusions in the idea that things will always turn out right. So far, when had anything in her life that began horribly turn out right in the end? Not at all, I tell you. Not. At. All.

Now maybe some time long ago, some time _before_ the Wonderland Incident, maybe things actually did turn out right in the end. Perhaps back then, Alice was indeed an optimist, a 'silver-lining' kind of gal, but if that were the case, let it be known that she recalls it not. As such, as far as Alice was concerned, optimism has never been her forte, and she honestly didn't think that that little fact would change anytime soon, especially not on her birthday. Only bad things happen on her birthday, after all. (To be discussed in detail later.)

Alice sat and pondered for a brief moment. _Why is it_, she wondered, _that only bad things occur on my birthday? Why not any other day? Perhaps even the day after? Even that would not nearly be as bad._ All very wise questions, my dear Alice. Why indeed must your birthday be riddled by such ill-fated memories? Ah, but, who am I to make judgments and ask questions? I am merely the narrator, and as such, my role is merely to tell the story as it happened, and nothing more. As it were, for Alice Pleasance Liddell, the best birthdays were the birthdays where no events worth remembering took place. Neither ill nor pleasant, for pleasance to Alice was nothing more than her middle name.

Now, don't let all this fuss and fodder over birthdays let you get the wrong idea of Alice. Alice is a right, cordial young lady. Though she may have her moments of bleak contemplations, she is truly and rightfully a charming girl with superb manners and a gentle way about her. Don't let her less than sunny past of problems and occurrences give you the idea that Alice herself isn't anything less than pleasant. And though on occasion, she is known to think poorly of her friends, as we are all capable of, but in all honesty, she truly adores them. There are none on this green earth that she holds in higher esteem than her dear friends, even on occasions such as these. The problem with Alice is absolutely not that she's depressed or melancholy or miserable at all. The problem with Alice is that she's just not happy. In fact, the last time Alice was happy, she was in Wonderland. But now, then, that's enough of that. There'll be plenty of time to talk about Wonderland some other time for right now, Alice is at a birthday party, and not just any birthday party, but her very own. And no matter how horribly she views her birthdays, to lose herself in the past would simply be rude, especially to Yuffie who tries to so hard to make Alice happy, particularly so on her birthday.

So there Alice sat, poor, poor Alice, sitting at a booth, waiting and waiting for cake and pizza, that she honestly didn't want, and opening presents that were given to her on her "special" day that was only special to Alice in the fact that it was one of two days of the year that she liked least of all the days, (the other being of course November 4th, the day of her half-birthday. More on that later as well.) when something so very peculiar, so very strange indeed, just happen to occur. It was only a moment, a brief glimpse, if you will. There Alice sat when a flicker of movement and color struck her peripheral vision, and the reaction was swift, how very swift indeed she swiveled in her spot to catch the briefest glimpse of something in the distance. Only a moment it was there, but the fleeting, faintly familiar image burned itself into Alice's memory forever more.

_Was that... a white rabbit?_

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**(1)** In case you live under a rock or in an alternate universe that lacks DDR, this song is called Butterfly. Just so you know.

**A/N: **Okay, so there's pretty much the whole plot laid out for your personal viewing. We'll meet the neighbors soon enough. Don't worry, they'll be there.


End file.
